


The Shot

by theboardwalkbody



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 05:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboardwalkbody/pseuds/theboardwalkbody
Summary: Alternative take on the scene at the fair. AU - Alexei doesn’t die.





	The Shot

**Author's Note:**

> I may do another chapter or so if there's interest. :)

They say the first gunshot of the Revolution was the proverbial loudest gunshot. ‘The shot heard ‘round the world’ as they say in the history books. Well, American history books anyway. The truth is it wasn’t. The loudest gunshot is actually the one you are affected by and needless to say I was in no way involved in the American Revolution. For me the loudest gunshot was one I didn’t even hear. It happened right next to me but between the guns silencer and the gunman skillfully timing it with the boom of the overhead Fourth of July fireworks there really was nothing to be heard. And yet, it was deafening.

I’ll be honest the 24 hours prior to this shot were shocking, and that is a grotesque understatement. Otherworldly portals, secret underground labs, an almost superhuman crazy gunman whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to keep said underground lab and otherworldly portals kept secret; which of course meant that the Four Nosy Americans and our Dearly Abducted Russian Scientist who has willingly spilled all of the metaphorical beans needed to be, well, eliminated.

You would think that any one of those hugely life changing discoveries would be the thing that struck to the core; the thing that would cause so much dread and panic. But it was none of those things. For me the most shocking event was that one second I was walking alongside that Dearly Abducted Russian - or, as he stated his actual name – Alexei, smiling with him as we walked back from a balloon-dart game where he had won a giant stuffed Woody Woodpecker (impressing me and about 2 dozen children) and the next… deafening noise.

It was as if he appeared from thin air – the gunman suddenly passing right in front of us without either of us noticing his approach, the raise of his arm to press the barrel of his gun against Alexei’s body, shielding it from view between their bodies and the giant stuffed cartoon woodpecker, the whisper of something I couldn’t understand as he passed by to disappear as quickly as he had appeared. It was so quick and the act so fluid that I wasn’t entirely sure it even happened except for the evidence left behind in his wake.

There was blood.

I’ve always heard that in the most profound moments everything is quiet. Nothing but absolute overwhelming silence. To me it was the loudest moment I’ve ever experienced. The sound of my heart pounding mixed with the sounds of fireworks, children yelling, people talking, babies crying, machines whirring, music from about 30 different sources, everything melding together to create the most offensive and chaotic sound.

I wanted to scream from the pressure of it all welling up in my head. I shut down emotionally instead.

Murry, also known as the Only Apparent Human Being Who Can Translate Russian to English, had witnessed the assault but saw about as much as I did despite the different vantage point. He rushed over as I leaned into Alexei’s body and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him as he began stumbling. Murry and I guided him to a secluded area between two pop-up buildings for games. In the little makeshift alley it was darker and the sounds of the roaring fair faded to more of a jumbled background noise.

“Alexei! Can you hear me?” Murray was practically yelling as we gently lowered the shocked and bleeding man to the ground. Being spoken in English Alexei responded only to the sound of his name being said, but he didn’t have much strength or awareness to stay focused and his head fell back against the wall behind him as his eyes closed.

“Keep him awake,” I said quietly to Murray as I yanked the jacket off myself. “Give me your shirt.”

My voice was quiet and emotionless. Almost robotic.

Murray nodded, ripped his own shirt off, then shifted focus back to Alexei and tried to keep him from losing consciousness by snapping his fingers and speaking in a loud, panicked tone; switching back and forth between English and Russian, not that it mattered at all what he was saying or which language he was saying it in. Neither I nor Alexei could really hear him. Alexei was between life and death – a fact I was well too aware of – and I was living in a silent world having tuned everything to focus.

I tied my jacket to Murray’s shirt to make them longer and then reached around Alexei and tied the clothes around him just above the wound. As I reached around I felt for an exit wound but felt nothing. I tied the makeshift tourniquet as tight as I could not tying it off until it was so tight Alexei sucked in a breath. My heart almost leap out of my chest. He felt the pressure. That was a good sign.

“Murray I need your shirt,” I said.

“What? I already –“, he started but I cut him off.

“The undershirt. Now.” I still didn’t raise my voice even though I was angry with him for not doing what I said the first time and wasting precious seconds.

It took only a moment but to me it felt like an hour; Murray handed me the undershirt.

“Tell him I’m sorry but it’s going to hurt,” I told Murray.

He nodded and translated my words to Russian. Alexei’s only response was a wince in response to the pain he was already feeling, though I highly doubted he felt it with its true intensity. His body was in shock, he needed immediate medical attention and I needed to try and stop the bleeding as much as possible. I took Murrays shirt and twisted it slightly to form a ball roughly the size of the bullet wound. I ripped open Alexei’s blood stained shirt and as gently and as quickly as I could I stuffed some of the shirt into the wound to try and block it and instead of backing off I pushed against it with all the strength I had, shifting my position and getting better leverage by leaning slightly forward on my knees and almost falling on to him.

The action caused him to yelp in pain. For a moment his eyes focused on mine before rolling back into his head and fluttering closed. My chest ached. He was in pain, and even though it was needed I hated that I caused it. “Alexei!” I shouted, evidently too loudly by the way Murray jumped at the sound. “You gotta stay with me, okay,” I added more softly when he took a deep, rough breath in and looked at me again but with unfocused eyes.

“Murray – get an ambulance. There’s a medic tent by the main entrance,” I ordered.  
“But what are we going to tell –“   
“Murray! I am a goddamn nursing student, not a fucking trauma surgeon! Cover story later. You get me an ambulance or he’ll die soon. I can’t let that happen which means you need to get me a fucking ambulance!” I was yelling. I had kept my cool for too long without letting myself experience any sort of emotion and it was all bursting out. Tears were beginning to leak from my eyes. Nursing school and clinicals teach you to keep your head in a crisis. But I had done all I could do which meant that now I no longer had control of the situation. No control means no emotional blockade.

Murray stumbled to his feet and then ran off to find a medic and an ambulance.

I was using both hands to keep pressure on the wound and aiding the pressure of the tourniquet. I took a deep breath to try and calm myself and then placed my forehead against Alexei’s for a moment to try and reassure him. I knew that he couldn’t understand me, but I spoke to him anyway.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to make sure of it. You just have to stay with me, okay? I can’t do all the work here by myself. I need you to help too. Okay? I need you.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat. ‘I need you.’ I didn’t realize I even felt that way until the words had left my lips. I wanted to yell at myself. What was this? Some Disney film where the heroine falls for the hero after knowing them for only a few days all the while they barely exchanged any words? All our conversations were translated by a recluse with a severe prejudice against Russians, with the exception of the one he was now trying to save, and our meeting did begin with a kidnapping. It just wasn’t mine it was his. Yeah, this could definitely make a Disney movie.

My panicked thoughts were interrupted by Murray reappearing with a few medics in tow.

“I warned Jim and Joyce,” he said as the medics rushed over and flanked me. I nodded, never taking my focus away from Alexei.

“Miss, you can let go, we will take him from here.” I heard the lead medic say to me, but my body wouldn’t react. “Miss, please, you need to get off him so we can transport him.”

Murray walked up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let them work, you’ve done your part,” he assured.

I hesitantly backed off and stood up. Murray kept a hand on my shoulder as I stared at my blood-covered hands. I wiped them on my jeans but the stains were already setting in.

The medics placed him on a stretcher and began to wheel him to an ambulance that had pulled up by a third medic arriving on the scene.

I broke away from Murray’s reassuring hold. “I’m going with him,” I said.

“But what about Joyce and Jim?” Murray called after me jogging slightly to catch up with me and the medics.

“Stay with them, tell them what happened, make sure they’re safe. Go with them,” I yelled back. After my instructions I didn’t look back, but I knew he listened because he didn’t follow or call out again. I climbed in the back of the ambulance and sat watching the two medics work on stabilizing Alexei with fluids and oxygen. I knew it wouldn’t do much without stopping the bleeding and getting a blood transfusion but I hoped it would be just enough to get him to the hospital where those measures could be implemented. I reached out for Alexei’s hand. I’m sure the medics assumed it was because I wanted to comfort him, which wasn’t wrong, but the truth was I was trying to comfort myself, too, and the only way I knew to do that was by placing my middle and index finger over the radial pulse point and just feeling his pulse against my fingertips. A pulse meant life; meant he was still with me. I closed my eyes and focused on the ragged, unsteady beating of Alexei’s pulse and tried to shut out the blaring noise of the sirens and the medics talking and working beside me hoping we would get to the hospital soon.


End file.
